


Gallavich Week Day 4 - Hurt/Comfort

by christinchen



Series: Gallavich Week 2014 [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinchen/pseuds/christinchen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set after 4x08-ish. Ian feels like shit and has some time to think and reflect, while Mickey takes care of him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gallavich Week Day 4 - Hurt/Comfort

The truth was that after growing up and living with Frank around and hearing him say the exact same thing time and time again he should have really know better. But as it was the simple thought of "It isn't like I couldn't stop if I really wanted to" that had taken up residence in his head and fuck, Ian had believed it. 

It wasn't like drugs were hard to come by on the South Side. He was pretty sure about half the people living here seemed to make a living off them somehow. At times when he had been at Mandy's he had seen her brothers and cousins sitting around the kitchen table dividing amounts of different drugs up for sale that at the time had made him truly uncomfortable, now the only made him crave. Hell, he had watched Mickey sell them himself at the Kash'n'Grab and his high school for years. 

And that was just talking about hard drugs. Lip had been in the business of selling pot with Kev since he was 15 years old. It paid well and Ian really knew no one who would turn down the occasional smoke. He doesn't even remember Fiona kicking up too much of a fuss when she found out about Lips source of income, she'd only told him to not get caught or she'd have his ass. 

And even when it came to harder stuff, everyone growing up with them had tried it at least once by the time they'd all turned 16. So drugs had just never been that big a deal in Ian's life. Most people he knew he certainly wouldn't describe as addicts. Maybe Frank. But everyone else? Not really. Since they all could just stop if they really wanted to, right? 

He'd seen Fiona not even smoke as much as a joint for months on end because their neighbor paid well to make it look like she was completely clean to family services. She'd never even complained except for at the occasional party. And now she had gone from being the reason that their little brother had almost died from a cocaine overdose to being off the stuff, no problem at all it seemed.   
Even Lip who normal would never turn down anything had done it numerous times for his mandatory probation drug checks. Though not without complaining. And even Mickey had never seemed to have any issues stopping at all, he'd turn down any offer with a small shrug and a "Nah man, can't. I got to piss in a cup again next week."

And to be honest in the past Ian didn't think he'd have had any issues doing just the same. Drugs in the South Side were just simply something everyone did, just some fun at a party, something for a relaxed afternoon hanging out or even to just take the edge off on a shitty day or week. 

Logically Ian knew that there were addicts. Hell, he'd seen them sitting on the curbs outside out bars after curfew, loitering around the park or under the train tracks. And truth be told Frank was probably friends with at least half of them and the other half probably hated him because he owed them money.   
He knew that Mickey had always made good cash with his business, and there had been enough of his customers that had seemed to be regulars, and not just 14 year old looking to buy a joint or two, most of his income had after all come from the meth he sold. So yes, Ian had known all that. And still he had always considered himself better than them, better than fucking Frank.

And still he found himself waking up in his own bed for the first time in months feeling like utter crap. The clothes he had worn yesterday strewn across the floor between the entire contents of his bag. Moments ago he had been desperately rummaging though them coming up empty handed.   
And fuck, he didn't know if Mickey had gone through his things and taken them (probably not if he was being honest, which he wasn't really in the mood for right now) or if his usual guy hadn't been at the club last night (he couldn't really remember) or if that demented old woman that called herself a friend of Monica's but still had kicked her out months ago and kept threatening to do the same to Ian had taken them (probably. Again. Fucking bitch). All Ian knew was that he had absolutely nothing left, no coke, no pills, no nothing, not even a fucking joint. And neither had anyone else in the house, which yes, he had been desperate enough to check, all because Fiona had banned all drugs after the incident with Liam. Fuck. 

Ian knew that he had walked down a dangerous path in snorting a little something to get himself out of bed in the morning, well afternoon really and something to get into the right mood for work at the Fairy Tale, taking whatever the hell his customers there had to offer to forget what he was actually doing there and then some more to convince himself to go back to their hotel rooms, and always fucking hotel rooms, with them. And when he left the next morning he had usually needed something to forget the previous night and then when he was back at the shithole of a house he had been staying at a little more to knock him out to sleep. Rinse and repeat. So maybe he was a little bit like Frank after all. 

All things considered it really shouldn't be that much of a surprise to him, but here he was sweating and shaking under the covers of his bed considering how the fuck he was going to get himself out off bed again and find himself something to make him feel better, because this was awful. 

Sitting up turned out to be an stupid idea since it only made him more nauseous. He was just considering rolling off the bed and trying to catch his phone on the bedside table in the fall and call Mandy, what it could totally work, when the door to his bedroom opened and Mickey walked in carrying a cup of coffee. And as much as Ian really wanted at least some caffeine in his bloodstream the smell made him retch. 

To his luck and also utter surprise Mickey took one look at him before he set the mug down in front of the door, closing it after himself and sighed. "That bad, huh?"

"That obvious, huh?" Ian croaked back and yep his voice sounded like utter shit. 

"Expected you to crash after yesterday actually." Mickey came to sit on the bed next to him. "But I guess I should have checked your pockets before I left for the alibi."

Ian just pressed his face into the pillow exhausted. A moment later he feels a hand run through his hair, and _that_ he totally had not expected. Except he finds himself moaning in complete bliss when Mickey starts scratching his scalp.   
"Oh god, it itches," he breathed as the hand on his head slowly works it's way down his neck and between his shoulder blades. 

"Aww fuck, Ian," Mickey sighed again. "Let's try and get you up into the shower. Cold water helps."

"Up is not good. I might puke." He shook his head slightly and tried to arch his back into Mickey's hand in a slightly better angle. 

"Okay I'll get you something to make you feel a little better. I'll be back in a sec," with that Mickey got up and Ian found himself whining when the hand on his back disappeared too. 

He didn't know how long it took for Mickey to get back, he felt like he may have drifted off or maybe just spaced out. But then he felt Mickey press a small pill against his lips followed by a glass of water. It may not have been exactly what he was after but Ian had never been picky. "What was that?" he still found himself asking. 

Mickey only chuckled. "Not what you were hoping I guess. But it's gonna tide you over the worst of it and then you'll have to just let your body do it's thing and get all that shit out of your system."

A couple of minutes later he was being hauled upright by Mickey and into the bathroom. He was still a little dizzy, still a lot nauseous but not as bad as before and Mickey had been right the cold shower had made him feel better. 

Though by the time he was sinking back down into his mattress his legs ached with what seemed to be the exhaustion of the past six months kicking in. And when he only had to pathetically whimper in pain for Mickey to curl up behind him and start massaging his cramping muscles Ian couldn't help but ask. "How do you know all this?"

"I worked as a freaking drug dealer since I was like 12, man. It's just the kind of things that you pick up here and there." Mickey murmured into Ian shoulder where his head was resting, his entire body pressed against the length of his, lovely and warm, like he just knew that Ian was chilled to the bone. And he probably did, Ian thought. 

"Liar."

"Alight." and Ian hadn't expected to him to admit it just that easily. "My mom. She went through it a couple of times. Last time was really bad. Took her weeks to even leave the house again. And when she did she just never came back again."

Ian had known that. Mandy had told him at the time. How they had found her body. But hearing Mickey actually admit it, talk about it to him, with his voice tight with emotion was something else. 

"And it's not something I want to ever go though again. So get some fucking sleep, man. I won't promise you you'll feel better when you wake up and give it a few days, yeah?"

"Okay." Okay, Ian thought, he could do this. Because maybe it wasn't about being _able_ to stop at any time, but _wanting_ to stop. And maybe he could do just that, with a little help from Mickey. So maybe he wasn't like Frank after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wanted to write about Ian having the flu. Somehow this happened instead. And just to point that out: I have never actually been though cocaine withdrawal or even taken cocaine, so I'm very sorry for any medical inaccuracies. If that's ever a situation you find yourself in then please don't take any advice from this story (also probably not from your drug dealer, just saying) and seek professional help


End file.
